Thursday, March 23, 2006
From a Different Cloth
I should have known Max was getting sick long before I noticed his bulging lymph nodes. Tuesday evening, after the boys finished an early dinner, Max refused to take a bath. I gave him a choice between bath and bed, and he opted for bed. It was 5:30.
With misguided self-congratulation, I attributed Max's fatigue to the exhilerating day we'd spent together. In honor of his spring break, I'd planned a custom itinerary with Max's interests in mind. First stop was the Museum of Natural Science, which was hosting a special traveling exhibit about dinosaurs. Then we picnicked in Hermann Park, followed by a trip to the zoo. Perhaps I claimed credit for Max's droopiness because I was so utterly exhausted at the end of the day. Little did I know that Max's body was being engulfed by the illness that would translate to a 104.9 degree fever by this afternoon.
Without any competition from Max Tuesday evening, Boo received personalized tuck-in service. He chose the books, the toothbrushing venue, and even, in a surprise move, the tucker-inner--his dad.
Sometime later, I popped my head into the boys' room to admire my sleeping angels. But Boo was still awake. I went to his bedside to kiss him goodnight.
"Mommy, will you sit in the rocking chair and sing me some lullabies?"
Over the last year or so, our nightly lullaby selection has been culled to a handful: "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot", "Lullaby and Good Night", "You Are My Sunshine", "Summertime" and a lovely benediction sung to the tune of "Edelweiss."
"Okay, Boo, what lullabies do you want to hear?"
"'Sweet Caroline' and 'Who Let the Dogs Out.'"
Remember the Johnson-O'Connor aptitude test that evaluates the usualness--or not--of a person's way of thinking? (For those who may not be familiar with Johnson-O'Connor, it's an interesting and informative tool for people beset with career indecision or malaise.) The format of the test is basic word association: I say "ham"; you say the first word that comes to mind. If you say "eggs" or "cheese" or "sandwich", your thought patterns are considered similar to most people's. But if you say "pineapple" or "toss" or "peanut butter", you're deemed odd..., no, I meant to say unorthodox. Out-of-the-box. Inventive. A maverick.
By whatever standard someone might devise, surely "Sweet Caroline" and "Who Let the Dogs Out" rank as idiosynchratic lullabies.
I must say, I love that about my Boo.
With misguided self-congratulation, I attributed Max's fatigue to the exhilerating day we'd spent together. In honor of his spring break, I'd planned a custom itinerary with Max's interests in mind. First stop was the Museum of Natural Science, which was hosting a special traveling exhibit about dinosaurs. Then we picnicked in Hermann Park, followed by a trip to the zoo. Perhaps I claimed credit for Max's droopiness because I was so utterly exhausted at the end of the day. Little did I know that Max's body was being engulfed by the illness that would translate to a 104.9 degree fever by this afternoon.
Without any competition from Max Tuesday evening, Boo received personalized tuck-in service. He chose the books, the toothbrushing venue, and even, in a surprise move, the tucker-inner--his dad.
Sometime later, I popped my head into the boys' room to admire my sleeping angels. But Boo was still awake. I went to his bedside to kiss him goodnight.
"Mommy, will you sit in the rocking chair and sing me some lullabies?"
Over the last year or so, our nightly lullaby selection has been culled to a handful: "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot", "Lullaby and Good Night", "You Are My Sunshine", "Summertime" and a lovely benediction sung to the tune of "Edelweiss."
"Okay, Boo, what lullabies do you want to hear?"
"'Sweet Caroline' and 'Who Let the Dogs Out.'"
Remember the Johnson-O'Connor aptitude test that evaluates the usualness--or not--of a person's way of thinking? (For those who may not be familiar with Johnson-O'Connor, it's an interesting and informative tool for people beset with career indecision or malaise.) The format of the test is basic word association: I say "ham"; you say the first word that comes to mind. If you say "eggs" or "cheese" or "sandwich", your thought patterns are considered similar to most people's. But if you say "pineapple" or "toss" or "peanut butter", you're deemed odd..., no, I meant to say unorthodox. Out-of-the-box. Inventive. A maverick.
By whatever standard someone might devise, surely "Sweet Caroline" and "Who Let the Dogs Out" rank as idiosynchratic lullabies.
I must say, I love that about my Boo.
2 Comments:
I was browsing along and found your blog & I think I'll bookmark it! I love your stories, and your little boys are so cute! Thank you for making my day!
Wait, aren't those songs from the carpool? And doesn't riding in the car make him sleepy? It seems perfectly logical to me.
I'm not sure I'd know how to sing "Who let the dogs out?" beyond the title phrase, and response chant as used in baseball stadiums. I assume there's more...
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